Five Seven Five
by Silindro
Summary: Oneshot.  Miroku decides that bad poetry is the way to Sango's heart.  Oddly enough, she agrees.  MiroSan.


Author's Notes: Wow, it's been a full year since my last posting. Damn you online gaming! Hopefully this little story is enough of an apology. This oneshot has been bugging me for a couple of weeks now. It isn't proofread though, and I don't employ the services of a beta. Sorry, but enjoy it anyway!

**Five Seven Five---**

_Can't think of a better way,  
And that's all I've got to say,  
I love you, is that okay?_

These Words // Natasha Bedingfield

---

It occurred to Miroku one evening that his attempts at wooing Sango weren't exactly working. After all of the time that they had spent traveling together, his attempts to win her affection only seemed to win him sharp looks of contention and the occasional slap to the face. He loved any physical contact that he could win, but his skin could only take so many beatings, and his ego was far too bruised to carry on relentlessly in the pursuit of what he expected would only be unrequited love.

_Time for a new tactic_, he thought to himself.

Their latest run of the countryside had been long and tiring, and they had agreed that a week of rest would be just the thing to raise morale. Kagome was especially adamant about taking a break since her schoolwork was important, and there were tests that needed attending. Currently the miko was studying by the fire, her books surrounding her like a barrier keeping the hanyou at bay.

"How much of this crap can they expect you to read?" Inuyasha asked irritably, picking one of the texts up off of the floor. He flipped through the pages, seeing the words but not reading them.

"I don't have to read it all, only the assigned passages," Kagome replied.

"The Tale of Genji," Inuyasha read aloud.

"I know that book," Miroku said in response. He reached out for the novel, catching it with both hands as Inuyasha tossed it across the fire. Kagome frowned at Inuyasha.

"What's it about?" Sango asked from the corner where she was carefully surveying her inventory of equipment.

"An imperial captain and his many affairs with women," Miroku grinned as he flipped through the book, pausing to read small bits of text that were vaguely familiar to him. "Mushin-sama recommended this book when I was younger and still learning to read. He said it would teach me literature and women."

The more Miroku flipped through the book the more he noticed the love letters and the haiku poetry that Murasaki Shikibu had included in her novel. The main character, Genji, used the written word to woo his women, and it worked wonderfully for him. Perhaps he was onto something.

The night came and went, and the next day brought a new wave of creativity to Miroku. He had pondered for a long while over love letters and poetry, and had in the end decided that Sango was definitely not a traditional woman. The love letter idea had been tossed, but as he sat with brush in hand, he wondered what kind of poetry would best be suited for her. And more importantly, what would he do if this idea fell flat? He was out of ideas. And so when inspiration spoke to him, he began to write.

Sango's first poem was received an hour later. The messenger, Shippou, had proclaimed that Miroku had provided compensation in the form of candy stolen from Kagome's backpack for delivering the paper. And the kitsune would do almost anything for a sugary treat. Curiously, Sango opened the folded parchment and read the lines to herself.

_In my dreams at night_

_I enjoy your smiling face_

_You are beautiful_

A blush crept onto Sango's cheeks as she read the haiku a second time. It was a very personal thing to say, even for Miroku. His words were far more intimate than his hand on her backside. This letter… she wasn't sure what to make of it. Surely she couldn't slap him, and yelling would only bring attention that she definitely didn't want. A part of her asked why he needed punishment at all. What was so wrong with writing a poem? And it wasn't like everyone in the village was reading it.

She read the poem a third time and decided that maybe the words weren't so bad after all. It was sweet, really.

"What's that?" Kagome asked as she came up beside her friend.

"Houshi-sama wrote me poetry," she said in a quiet voice. She was still somewhat numb from the surprise of the letter.

"Oh, let me read!"

Sango passed her friend the note without question, letting the younger woman read what she hadn't the nerve to read out loud.

As Kagome scanned over the kanji she couldn't help but groan. The poetry itself was awful. Of course the meter was correct, but the words were so cheesy and the interpretive meaning behind most poems was missing. It was far too literal, and even Kagome, who wasn't terribly versed in poetry, could tell. Glancing up at Sango, she could tell that the taijiya was very moved by the poem. It was easy to see that this, more than anything that Miroku had ever done, was the best attempt he had made at cracking Sango's shell.

"It's very nice," Kagome commented as she handed the paper back.

Over the next several days Sango received many more parchments full of various kinds of haiku. Miroku had been working diligently from somewhere secret, churning out the words on paper that Shippou delivered each time. Even though his poems weren't getting better, she still enjoyed receiving them and sharing them with Kagome.

_Simple feelings now_

_The air blowing in the trees_

_Like wind in your hair_

Occasionally she would pull the papers out and reread through them. She had her favorites grouped in the front of the stack. Their edges were somewhat torn from all the reading that they had endured.

"Here Sango," Shippou said as he bounced into the garden where the girls were sitting.

She grabbed the paper and unfolded it as she had done many times before, scanning slowly over the words.

_How can I tell you_

_Your heart is what I love best_

_I can't find the words_

Enough was enough, she decided. It was time to find the monk and let him know how she felt about his poetry. Shippou had run off to the east in the general direction of the trees that bordered the village. It was enough to tell her that Miroku was probably set up near the bone well. It was a likely landmark in the middle of the forest. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard the voices.

"Did she say anything this time?" Miroku asked as he dug into his sleeves for Shippou's promised candy.

"No," he replied. "She was still reading when I ran away."

A branch cracked beneath her feet, giving away her presence to the monk and his messenger. Shippou grabbed the offered treat before running back toward civilization. He suspected that Miroku and Sango were going to have a grown up discussion. And Kagome had told him before that there were some things he wasn't meant to hear.

"Did you like them?"

Sango nodded as she walked out of the shade and into the clearing. Miroku was seated with his back against the wood of the well, but he moved to stand as she came closer. His hands reached out and she came to stand close, not caring that his hand was dangerously low on her hip. She was even so bold as to toy with the violet fabric that covered his chest.

"I worked hard on those poems," he said, pulling her closer. "They took a lot of thinking."

"It's hard to imagine that something so sentimental and heartfelt came from your brain," she grinned.

"You wound me, Sango. Where's the appreciation?"

Her arms that had been situated comfortably around his neck, jerked hard, pulling his lips down to hers. The action was surprised, but not unwanted. He quickly recovered from his surprise and joined in the kiss with fervor. It was so uncharacteristic of her to instigate such an action, but he wasn't' going to take the time to ask questions. He had his poems, and he had his woman. And then there was the kiss for which he had been hoping.

He ran his unoccupied hand further south than what he knew he should have, but it was his lucky day. There was no slap to accompany the action. There was, although, the satisfaction of knowing that finally, all of Genji's teachings hadn't been in vain.

And oddly enough, it was only fitting that two days later while sitting in class, Kagome stumbled on Miroku's bad poetry in the middle of her literature textbook under an unknown author. But she knew the source, and the fact that Sango had saved the letters throughout her lifetime was reassurance that things were going to be alright in the end.

**End---**

Ending notes: Yes, I created the haiku. And yes, I know they're awful. That's how I wanted them to be.

_The Tale of Genji_ is actually a real story. It's been called the first novel in the world, and really is about an imperial captain and his affairs with many women. It's a long read and full of love letters, haiku, and lots of emotion.

Also, the haiku meter that you're taught in school is five seven five (in regards to the number of syllables in each line) in case you didn't understand from where the title of this story came.

_**There's a special ring of Hell reserved for silent readers. Please don't send yourself there! Review!**_


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